Wednesday, July 25, 2018

Writing tips

I read a lot of stories, both to look for ideas to steal draw inspiration from, and also because of course I enjoy this hobby; with that in mind, here's some tips if you're interested in writing yourself.

Setting/Introduction

One thing I often struggle with is how long to make an introduction. Many (many, many...) times I'll see a story with an interesting title, open it up, scroll down three pages and realize they're still not fighting, and get bored and close the tab. There's no hard rule about how long your introduction should be, but consider: Is this information the reader needs to have? I remember one story where our heroine, having grown up, is going to fight her teacher, but after six pages of unimportant detail, I gave up on anything ever happening. I can't think offhand of any story that needs a six page introduction, and I would say when in doubt, try to keep it short. Give the reader all the information they need, but don't give them anything they don't. And what information does the reader need? Two main things: Setting and character.

Setting means the setup - where are our heroes fighting? Is it a private match, or is there a crowd? This is also where you can set up the tone of the story - is this a friendly match, is it nothing personal, or a grudge match? What are the stakes of the fight? What rules (if any)? Probably the most important part of the setup is why these characters are in conflict, because this sets the tone for the whole story, what each fighter is looking to get out of the fight, what they might do to the loser, how far they'll go to win the fight, and so on. (Two women who get into a traffic accident in the middle of the night and start brawling might be hitting each other in the crotch; a friendly wrestling match between the moms of two kids who are dating wouldn't be doing any low blows, slapping each other's tits, etc.)
A quick note on motivations: The two oldest cliches in these kinds of stories are fighting over a man, or clothes. I don't recommend using either one. (I've read some great stories where two women are fighting over a man, but they're usually great because of the action, not the motivation.) This is the part to let your imagination run wild; no idea is too out there if the story's written well.

Character is who are characters are - Why are they fighting? What are their skill levels? What do they hope to accomplish? What do they look like? This last one is detail I'm often surprised to see missing; you should try to give the reader enough information to picture the fighters. How tall are they? What is their body shape like? What does their hair look like? What does their face look like? What are they wearing? It may help to give a height and weight to your characters, but I find if they've been described in enough detail, it's not really needed. (You don't need to say that Stephanie is exactly 5'8" and Stacy is 5'2"; the reader just needs to know that she's tall, and how much taller she is than her opponent; likewise they just need to know that Stacy is maybe slightly below average height, and how much shorter she is than Stephanie.)
That being said, if you do give a weight, bear in mind that the number given accords with the body type you've described. I've read a ton of stories where a woman is described as powerful or curvy, but then is given a weight that would make her emaciated. Remember, muscle weighs more than fat, and if a woman is 6'1" with 40EE tits, she's going to look like a rake with two melons taped to it at 120 pounds. I use a site called My Body Gallery (https://www.mybodygallery.com/) to help visualize what a body at a certain height and weight would look like. I would also advise against engaging in stereotypes when using characters of different races. Latina women often have wider hips than white women, which is fine to put in, but remember all races come in all body types. Lastly, if you give someone a tattoo, an injury that impacts the flow of the match, etc., make sure you remember these; if Stephanie has a dislocated shoulder from when the copy machine fell on her last week, she shouldn't be using that arm to deliver clotheslines and chokeslams.
If you're doing a female vs female fight, I recommend describing both characters in detail; if it's a male versus female fight, you can leave the male underdeveloped; nobody really cares what the guy looks like, so you only need to give the reader enough information about him so they know his build and skill level (and maybe his hair, if the woman is going to grab it). Also, I suppose it lets male readers project themselves onto the hero easier. (Sorry, ladies.)

And the final goal, try to grab the reader right from the first sentence. I don't usually suggest starting in the middle of the fight or doing the cheesy "Yes, that's me getting a naked face sit from famous pop star Sia. How did I get here? Well..." (Although I have done that myself once or twice...) But start with something unusual that will get the reader's attention and make them want to see what's going to happen.
With all that in mind, let's take a look at an introduction to one of my stories. See if you can spot how I try to do the following:
Keep the introduction short.

Set up where (the guest bedroom) and why (our hero slept with his wife's sister) the characters are going to fight. What is each fighter trying to get out of the fight? (Our hero wants his wife to calm down, and our wife wants to punish him for cheating on her.)

Set up the tone of the fight. This is a grudge match, but our heroine's goal is to punish the hero; she'll happily kick him in the balls, but she won't do anything to permanently injure him. Both fighters are a bit inexperienced, so they won't be giving each other teardrop suplexes and emerald flowsions; the moveset will probably be simple strikes (slaps, punches, kicks) and simple grappling moves (bearhugs, basic slams).

This is a male/female story, so we introduce the female fighter, giving her name, what she looks like, what she's wearing, some hints to her personality and her fighting style, etc. All that we need to describe about our male hero is how he stacks up compared to her.

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"You fucked my sister?!" my wife shrieked.
"Honey, it's not like that -"
"Not like that!" she pointed her chopsticks at me. "What was it like?"
"Listen, I mean... I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen, but -"
"Shut up," she hissed. "When we get home, I'm going to beat the fuck out of you. Then -" she stabbed a dumpling with her chopsticks - "I'm going to beat the shit out of her. Then I'll start thinking about what you need to do before I'm willing to forgive you."
"Okay, honey." I looked down into my lo mien. I'd taken my wife to her favorite Chinese place in the hopes it would dampen her temper, but it didn't seem to be working. "Can I explain what happened?"
"I know what happened," Debra scoffed. "Don't think she cares about you or wanted to have sex with you, specifically. She just has to try to take everything I have. You know," she leaned forward, really warming to the subject, "she's tried to fuck every boyfriend I've ever had, just because she could. I guess I just thought my HUSBAND would be able to keep his DICK in his pants!"  The couple at the next table was staring, but one mean glare from my angry wife was enough to send them back to their food.

It was a awkward rest of the dinner as Debra stared holes in me from under her beat-up cowboy hat, and a equally awkward ride home as I knew what was waiting for me when we got there. We’d tussled for fun a few times, and I knew from that how strong my wife was; she’s a stocky, powerful woman, an inch taller than me at 5’9” (usually even taller in her cowgirl boots).

The front door had barely finished closing before my wife was stripping off her orange sundress. "Take your clothes off," she grunted. I took off my shirt, then my pants, unable to stop myself from getting hard as she was down to just her panties and cowgirl boots. "Now don't get any ideas," she hissed, looking at my cock tenting out my underwear. "You're going to be lucky if I don't rip that thing off. Come on." She lead me upstairs and into our guest bedroom, closing the door behind us and attacking without warning, slapping me across the face so hard my head snapped around with the hit. I gasped and...

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Finally, try not to sweat over the introduction too much. I know that might sound goofy after everything that's just been laid out, but the introduction is often the most difficult part. If it's easier, write the fighting part first, then go back and fill in the introduction; sometimes it's the only way I can finish a story.

The story itself
You should consider what words you use to write your story. I personally get distracted if the same word recurs too many times ("Stephanie punched Stay in the stomach. Stacy grabbed her stomach and groaned at her stomach hurting from the stomach punch. Stacy punched Stephanie in the stomach back and now Stephanie's stomach hurt from Stacy punching her stomach...") I personally find it helpful to switch around synonyms, so instead of hearing about someone's stomach 12 times, we might hear about her midsection, stomach, gut, belly, breadbasket, etc. Here is where you can think about which word to use; if we have a BBW, she might have a gut; if we have 18 year old getting beat up by her mom, she might have a tummy. In these cases, the right word paints a picture for the reader. Likewise, if we have a Amazonian bodybuilder who looks like she's cut from pure muscle, it's probably best to avoid referring to her gut (since she has rock-hard abs), or her tummy (since it's a juvenile word that implies vulnerability or immaturity). I don't recommend worrying about this as you're writing the first draft; the most important thing is to get the story out, and changes like this can be made when editing or polishing the finished work.

Likewise, you should consider how you are describing the action. At the start of a fight someone may get hurt, winded, or get the wind knocked out of them; towards the end of the fight they might get devastated and crushed; and only at the end of the fight should they get annihilated, destroyed, and finished off. If Stephanie hits Stacy once and this is described as Stephanie "hurting her with a sharp blow", we can expect Stacy to maybe not feel great, but is still in the fight and capable of hitting back; if Stephanie "destroys her with an annihilating blow", we probably don't expect Stacy to get up again.

In terms of what happens during the fight, it should match what's already been established during the setup - if we have two soccer moms tussling over one of them barging in front of the other at Starbucks, we expect to see slaps, hairpulling, maybe some kicks; if they start dishing out emerald flowsions, there's a mismatch with the setup. (Unless one of them is a retired pro wrestler. Huh, there's an idea...)
Likewise, the setup should inform how much damage the fighters inflict on each other - if we have a husband and wife rolling around in their underwear, we don't expect the wife to rip her hubby's balls off or claw his eyes out. The setup should also inform the fighters interacting with each other outside of fighting - are they teasing each other good-naturedly, or taunting each other cruelly?
I find it helpful to mention how the fighters are doing from time to time; after the first exchange perhaps Stephanie is just a little sweaty, while Stacy is getting a black eye; later on Stephanie is breathing hard and holding her stomach, while Stacy is losing speed and getting sloppy; near the end of the fight we might see that Stephanie's eye is bruising shut and her tits are swelling, while Stacy can barely stand, running on fumes and adrenaline. It can be useful to add these parts to make it clear to the reader how the fight is developing; they might be surprised by someone making a heroic comeback, but they shouldn't be surprised at the point where the victor defeats the loser for good.

Last is the ending. This is often the hardest part for me; in general you want to think about three possibilities: Are you setting up a sequel, bringing the story to a conclusive end, or are you not sure? In the first case where there's another chapter, set up a sequel hook - this can be something as simple as someone asking "Rematch?", or you can go for something more dramatic ("Little did I know this wasn't the last I'd see of my ex-wife and her vibrating strapon"). If you're ending the story here, just make sure all the plot threads are concluded; this is usually the easiest ending. If you're not sure, it's possible to wrap everything up but still leave a little crack open in case you want to write another chapter later.

Spelling & Grammar

Now that the story's done, run a spelling and grammar check; This might sounds basic, but I'm always surprised when people take the time to write something up, but not to do a three minute spelling check afterwards. DON'T MAKE THE WHOLE STORY IN ALL CAPS... IT LOOKS LIKE YELLING... You don't have to make sure the story is APA formatted or anything, but it can be very distracting if you for example have multiple periods at the of every sentence.... likewise you dont want to do all lower case or leave out punctuation. I don't recommend writing the story up as a script either, as this is usually hard to follow. The aim should always be simple, clear communication.

After finishing a story and doing your spelling/grammar check, put it aside and forget about it for a while. I suggest leaving it alone until you've almost completely forgotten about it; when you come back to edit it, not only will you have a much easier time spotting errors your spelling/grammar check didn't catch (oops, I put "writing" instead of "writhing"), but it should also help you spot any continuity errors as well. (This one drives me nuts - I'm almost tempted to just start every fight with everyone totally naked so I don't have to remember what they started in and how much, if any, clothes they've lost so far.) If you have the patience, after doing your editing, put it aside for a second time, then come back and do a final polish pass before publishing it. (This is why it takes me forever to finish anything!)

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And last of all, whether you're reading or writing, have fun!

Monday, July 23, 2018

Bodybuilding Teens vs Veteran MILFs Part 2 (M/F)

On our team, only Adam and I were left; Paola, Whitney and Helen were left for the women. Luckily the rules limited the match to only one fighter for each team in the ring at once, which at least limited their numbers advantage - but our opponents would always have two wrestlers in reserve to our one. They also would get a minute of double, er, triple teaming in their corner, while we'd only get 30 seconds in ours - a rule I didn't really understand the thinking behind, but there was nothing I could do about it anyway.
On the downside I was completely gassed, exhausted and sore from my match, in addition to my defeated opponent almost sucking my soul out via my dick. I was going to need a good long rest - Adam would be on his own to start off. He was already in the middle of the ring, playing to the crowd and taunting our opponents. The women conferred for a moment before sending out Paola to start, possibly because she was the freshest having won the first match of the night; she got between the ropes, wearing just her red bikini bottoms, facing off with Adam, stark naked and already erect. Our opponents hadn’t forgotten what he’d done to their teammate as Paola shook her finger at him, telling him she was going to teach him some manners while he just smirked at her. She stepped up to him and aimed a big slap, which Adam blocked with his forearm; this turned out to just be an opening distraction as she kneed him in the crotch. He covered his balls, slightly hunched over, and she gave him a wicked backhand; this looked painful, but maybe she should have gone with a punch or something more high-impact as Adam responded with his own knee to the crotch, a move Paola clearly wasn’t expecting, screaming in shock. Adam grabbed her shoulders, bending her over and slamming his knee into her stomach. He wrapped his arms around her, bearhugging her and lifting her off the mat, squeezing her and shaking her back and forth. She tried to escape by kicking him, but she couldn’t get any power into her kicks, and she slowly gave up on them; she couldn’t find an escape, her struggling becoming weaker and weaker until she leaned back in his grip and went limp. Adam gave her a few more shakes and then ran forwards a few steps, slamming Paola down to the mat, his body on top of hers, crushing her between himself and the canvas. He quickly pulled her back standing, shooting a smirk over his shoulder at her teammates before grabbing the sides of her bottoms, yanking them up and giving her a monster wedgie. This brought her around with a scream as she started dancing on her tiptoes trying to minimize the discomfort, apparently with little success. She tried pulling her bottoms back down, but Adam’s superior strength made this impossible for her; with a grunt he actually lifted her off the mat (I expected the bottoms to break, but they held her weight) and gave her an atomic drop, slamming her weight down on his outstretched knee.
Paola shrieked at the impact, rolling off Adam’s leg - he released her bottoms - and rolled onto her right side, gingerly picking her suit out of her ass and crotch as Adam played to the booing, jeering crowd.
“You having some trouble there, granny?” he shrieked at his opponent. He went over to her and pulled her bottoms off, stopping to sniff them like a creep before dismissively tossing them over his shoulder. He backed up a step and launched a kick into Paola’s stomach, hitting her with enough force to roll her over, gasping. He got two handfuls of her long hair and pulled her up to her knees, contemptuously smacking away the desperate, sloppy uppercut slap Paola aimed at his balls. In return he grabbed her ears and slammed his knee into her face. This move had worked great against Cyndi, and it seemed just as effective on Paola; he gave her a second one and I could see she couldn’t even stay vertical on her own power. Adam, gloating, switched to a two-handed grip on her neck, viciously choking her; Paola weakly grabbed his wrists but couldn’t come close to breaking the hold. I wished there was a ref to break this up as I was afraid Adam was really going to hurt his opponent badly, her eyes bugging out as she uselessly pulled at his arms. Adam, sniggering, lined his dick up with her face and started fucking her mouth. Paola drooled and choked on his cock, her head bouncing back and forth as Adam pistoned his cock between her lips. “You thought you’d get to suck me off, bitch?” Adam yelled at her. “How do you like this, huh?” She couldn’t answer, of course; she barely managed a gagging moan around his shaft.
For a second I was worried Adam was going to destroy himself by cumming in his opponent’s mouth, but he threw Paola down before that happened. She gagged for a second before coughing up a gob of spit, rubbing her neck - I could see big red marks where Adam had squeezed - as he circled. Paola got up to one knee and Adam charged her from behind, aiming a kick at the back of her head - Helen screamed a warning from her corner and at the last second Paola ducked out of the way, leaving Adam to miss his kick so hard he fell down. Paola started frantically crawling towards her corner, but she only made it halfway before Adam caught up with her, grabbing at her hips; she threw a blind donkey kick backwards, hitting Adam in the jaw, sending him flying backwards. A rising tide of excited cheers issued from the crowd as Paola made it to safety, slapping Whitney’s outstretched hand.

This seemed like a good time for us to switch as well; I’d managed to recover fairly well, and I didn’t want Adam to overdo it - he still looked a little wobbly after the kick he’d just eaten - so I called for a tag; Whitney, who’d climbed into the ring, answered me for Adam: “Forget it, kid! He’s not getting outta this ring alive!”
“Yeah, we’ll see,” Adam hissed as he circled Whitney. “I’m gonna break you with this white cock.”
“Oh, yeah? Come do it, pussy!” They closed; Adam had his fists up to box and started throwing punches at Whitney, but she backed up, using her long legs to start laying in kicks to Adam’s lower half, peppering his legs and hips with quick hits, keeping out of his punch range; her kicks didn’t look super hard, but as she kept unleashing them I could see Adam slowing; the kicks Whitney was landing to the sides and back of his knees in particular seemed to be hurting him pretty badly.
“Fuck!” Adam screamed after she got another one of these on his right knee. “You old fucking bitch! Stop running away and come fight me!”
“Make me,” Whitney laughed. With a scream Adam lunged at her, but she ducked back, jumping and landing a massive kick, her rising foot slamming into Adam’s chin, sending him flying backwards. He landed heavily on the mat and Whitney was right there, stomping on his knees; Adam yelled in pain, reaching down to cover his legs with his hands. Whitney simply switched targets and slammed a very painful-looking stomp into Adam’s face, leaving him laying flat, covering his nose and mouth with his hands. Whitney got his ankles and started dragging him across the ring - not to her corner, to my surprise, but to a neutral one - helping him to his feet, then shoving him into the corner back-first, hooking his arms over the top ropes. Whitney grabbed the middle ropes for balance and blasted him with a few hard kicks to the stomach, knocking the wind out of him, leaving Adam winded, only his arms resting over the top ropes to keep him standing.
“You gonna see some shit now!” Whitney promised me, releasing the middle rope as she started working Adam over with kicks. She unleashed every kind of kick I’d ever seen - side kicks into his ribs and legs, roundhouses that rocked his head, straight kicks into his crotch, the top of her foot smashing his balls up against his hips. At first I thought the roundhouses to the head would knock him out, but it looked like the real damage was the repeated crotch kicks; I could see Adam’s balls starting to swell up, and he went from yelling in pain to just whimpering whenever Whitney landed one of those. The few times he tried to come off the ropes she’d blast him with one of her crotch kicks, and he eventually gave up trying to get out at all; by the end he was just hanging off the ropes, a sweaty beaten mess, beyond any resistance.
Finally Whitney decided he was demolished and stepped up to my partner, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him off the ropes, throwing him down to the mat like a sack of garbage; Adam came to rest on his front, not moving. Whitney stopped to spit on him, then grabbed his ankles and dragged him over to her corner. Someone in the back must have done something, and a large digital clock started counting down from one minute (although with no ref to enforce this, I wondered what would happen if they just kept at him when it got to zero). All three women got into the ring; they pulled Adam up to his feet, Whitney bending him over with a kick to his stomach, then Helen pulled his head between her legs and lifted him up, his head pointed towards the mat and his feet sticking straight up; she backed up into the corner, Whitney jumping up to the top rope behind her, grabbing Adam’s feet; they were going to do a spike piledriver on him. The irony wasn’t lost on me that they were going to destroy him with an even more powerful version of the move he’d unleashed on Cyndi.
But instead of hitting the move, they just held him there as Paola came over. She grabbed his cock - it had gone limp during Whitney’s beating - and started getting him hard, making a ring with just her thumb and index finger and working her hand up and down his shaft. To my amazement he started getting hard again; there were still 52 seconds on the clock (it seemed to be running very slowly) when Paola took his cock into her mouth and started blowing him. I don’t know if Adam could have gotten out of this if he wanted to, but it was a moot point as he just hung there in Helen’s arms as Paola worked him over.
Could he beat the clock? I counted how long it took to go from :48 to :47 - one mississippi, two mississippi, three mississippi, four mississippi, five mississippi, six mississippi - no, there was no way he could beat a clock that slow; her was toast. I looked back at Paola’s lips sliding up and down Adam’s rod; I guess there were worse ways to go. To my partner’s credit he made it to :22 before blowing his load; Paola wanted everyone to see it and pulled her mouth off his dick at the last second, sticking her tongue out and finishing him with a few quick strokes, catching most of his load on her face, although a few strands got into her hair. She released him and backed up a few steps, and her teammates hit the spike piledriver; Helen slammed Adam’s head down into the mat, while Whitney jumped off the top ropes, using his feet to add even more force. Adam flopped down in a boneless heap; he was finished, and the double-team clock went back to :00.
But they weren’t done with him yet, roughly pulling him up to his feet and stuffing him in the corner. Paola got outside the ring, trapping his arms against the ropes - or maybe just holding him up, I don’t know - while Whitney laid down on her back, lifting her legs up and catching Adam’s still-hard cock between the soles of her feet. Helen walked around the ring whipping up the crowd as Whitney worked Adam with a humiliating footjob. To my surprise, Helen ended up wandering over to where I was standing, leaning against the ringpost. She reached down and took my dick into her hand, casually jerking me off: “You enjoying the show?”
“Uh, not really,” I gasped.
“Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t. Well, won’t be long now, I don’t think. Then it’s your turn!” she chirped. “Now keep this nice and hard for me, you hear?” She released me and went back to her corner, watching Adam’s final destruction at Whitney’s feet. Helen’s prediction turned out to be pretty accurate; Whitney was applying the fastest footjob I’ve ever seen, her soles flying up and down Adam’s dick, and his night was finished as she forced him to cum, milking long spurts that fell on the mat, Whitney’s shorts, her legs, and some on her feet. After he was done she braced her left foot on his right thigh, then used her right foot to start kicking Adam in his swollen, bruised ballsack; he let out a pathetic scream, struggling helplessly against Paola’s arms holding him still. Whitney got in a half dozen kicks, the last few hitting his nuts so hard she forced out more cum; Adam’s body jumped with each kick, the first drawing a scream, then pained grunts, then nothing as he mercifully passed out. Paola released his arms and he slowly slid down the turnbuckle. Helen pushed him out of the ring with her foot, and he hit the mats lining the floor outside, laying there out cold.
Damn. I’ll admit to feeling afraid as Helen pointed at me with a smile: It was my turn. I got between the ropes to face her, praying whatever the women had in store for me was less brutal than my vanquished teammate.

Paola and Whitney got out of the ring, leaving me with Helen; we met in the center of the ring and my opponent offered me a lockup. I hesitated for a second; she was strong, but I doubted she was as strong as me, and I went for it, cautiously, suspecting a trap. Helen entwined her fingers with mine and we started pushing against each other. Sure enough, she was strong but I was stronger, and after a few minutes of us struggling against each other I started getting the advantage; I could see her arms quivering as I began to slowly force her hands down with a shout of triumph. That’s what Helen kicked me in the crotch, her cowboy boots smashing into my balls. I screamed and she easily pushed me down to the mat, sitting on my chest and smiling down at me: “Sorry, sweetie, but if you ain’t cheatin’, you ain’t tryin!” She reached back and cupped my aching nuts: “Hope I didn’t hurt your little apricots too bad!” She hopped off me, hauling me up to my feet with a “Up you go!” and threw me at the ropes. I bounced off and she aimed the same dropkick she’d hit Malik with at me (man, that felt like forever ago) - there was no way to stop in time, but I managed to duck while running and her feet flew over my head; she landed on her back with a thud, and I heard Whitney emit a bark of laughter at her partner. By the time I managed to chug to a stop and turn around Helen was back on her feet, and she didn’t seem amused. She waved me on and I closed with her cautiously; she was in a grappler’s stance, ready to grab me. I had some idea of copying Whitney’s technique against Adam, but using punches instead of kicks; I saw myself peppering Helen with jabs, dancing back away from her as she got sweaty chasing me around the ring until I knocked her out.
This was a nice dream, but I guess never that realistic. Whitney had probably been doing this longer than I’d been alive, and she had decades of experience to my hours; I did manage to nail Helen with a hard jab to the ribs, but she powered through it and grabbed me, her right arm going between my legs as she lifted me up, then slammed me back down to the mat. This wasn’t the most powerful move, but Helen used it to set me up for her next one as she ran backwards into the ropes and bounced off, charging at me. I rolled away from her, thinking she was trying to do a legrop and she’d miss and land on her butt; instead, she ducked into a summersault, then back to her feet, then hit me with a splash.
Now Helen didn’t weigh nearly as much as Sally, but she still had all of her momentum from the ropes, and this knocked the wind out of me; before I could even start getting up Helen leapt to her feet and started putting her boots to me. She really knew how to use these to inflict maximum damage with each stomp; she concentrated on my upper body, avoiding my head - I assume she didn’t want to knock out any teeth or break my nose - working over my shoulders, chest, and stomach. The one time I tried to get up she hovered her right boot over my balls, and that was enough to get me to lay back down and take my stomping. (Maybe she was bluffing; I couldn’t afford to find out.) Before I could try again she’d stomped the wind out of me - I’ve got strong abs, but they could only take so many full-force hits from the chunky heels on her boots - and after she saw that I was gasping, she worked on my shoulders more; by the time she laid off and let me stand up, they were hurting so bad I could barely get my hands up into a guard. I’d also lost quite a bit of speed as Helen came in on me, knocking my hands away, landing a short uppercut into my aching stomach that bent me over. She went around behind me and I felt her hands on my shoulders; what the hell was she doing? She leapt up on my back, scissoring her arms around my midsection, then grabbed my wrists and forced my arms up and back painfully. This was something called a rodeo hold - I’d seen it applied in training, but I’d forgotten if we’d been shown any escape for it; even if we had, I didn’t know if I’d have the strength for it; my arms and shoulders were on fire, and Helen’s scissors on my aching midsection was icing on the cake; I think she meant to punish me with this hold for a while, but I only made it about a minute and a half before I sank down to my knees, trying not to cry at the pain Helen was inflicting on me.
“Hey!” she yelled down at me. “Get up! We’re not at that part yet!” For some reason, I tried to do as she said, my legs shaking with effort; it was too much and I was too hurt, and although I managed to get up to one knee, I ran out of gas and fell straight forward, landing on my chest with Helen still on top of me. She rolled us over, pulling me up to a sitting position, with her sitting on the mat behind me; her arms switched to a simple but very effective sleeper, her right arm squeezing my neck, her legs still scissoring my midsection. Normally I’d have no problem just pulling her arm away from my neck, but she’d worn me down; I was out of breath and any force I tried to exert made my shoulders spike with pain. I swear I could hear her laughing as I helplessly tugged on her arm. My vision started going dark; I felt my hands fall away, down to the mat, and Helen applied one last burst of strength, crushing my midsection with her legs, bearing down on my neck with her arms.

She released me before I passed out, but I was beyond fighting back; I felt her dragging me over to her corner, then I felt six female hands on my body, pulling me up to all fours. I started slowly coming around, looking up to see Whitney standing over me and smiling. She bent down and patted me on the head: “We’re gonna finish you off now, kid. Make it easy on yourself, don’t try any dumb shit.”
Well, I couldn't even if I wanted to and just nodded. Whitney stepped forward and got me in a standing headscissors, wrapping her long, strong legs around my head. I grabbed her at the knees, honestly more to stabilize myself than anything else; I sure didn’t have the power to even try to escape, and I knew it was pointless anyway. To my intense relief, she only squeezed a little bit, enough to keep me where I was and give me a warning that she’d really put the hurt on if I tried to escape, but no more - she clearly wanted me to feel every second of what was coming next.
Helen was standing to my right, and I felt someone behind me gently easing my legs apart - must’ve been Paola - and gasped as she grabbed my cock in a two-handed grip. She started jerking me off me with fast, twisting strokes; all I could do was hang on to Whitney’s thighs as her partner milked me. “Yeah, he’s done, girl!” Whitney yelled over my back at her partner. Paola was supposed to be the oral specialist, but she was quite good at this too; I tried to hold on - I don’t know why, really, since they weren’t going to let me go until I came, wether that was ten seconds or ten minutes - but Paola’s long, quick, teasing strokes broke down my resistance quickly, and it wasn’t long before I started spurting on the mat, Paola working my cock through my climax. Her hands gradually slowed, but never completely stopped - she must’ve wanted to make sure I stayed hard for whatever they had planned next, which they started discussing - arguing about, really - over me while Whitney still had the headscissors and Paola was still holding my shaft. They agreed that they wanted to get me flat on my back, but after that:
“I’m the blowjob expert!” Paola yelled. “Let me do it!”
“Girl, you already made him squirt once! You still got his dick in your hand! And you’re not the only one who can suck a cock here! You wanted to blow him? You had your chance, it’s my turn!”
“Fine,” Paola pouted. “I get to sit on his face then.”
“Take your seat, girlfriend,” Whitney told her, finally releasing me. They flipped me over on my back - graciously not making me lay in the wet spot I’d deposited on the mat - and sure enough Paola came around to my head, squatting over my face with a big smile.
“You ready for this, sweetie?” she purred. I nodded as if my opinion meant anything (looking back I wonder what would have happened if I’d said no), then took a deep breath, bracing myself as she slowly lowered her wide hips over my head, until she sat on my face with a happy sigh, pressing her pussy into my mouth.
I couldn’t see what was happening, but I felt a warm pair of lips kiss the tip of my cock; this must’ve been Whitney, and I groaned into her partner’s snatch as she started sucking my cock, her mouth moving teasingly slowly down my shaft. At the same time Paola started moving her hips, grinding her crotch over my nose and mouth.
What I didn’t expect was another pair of hands pushing my buttcheeks apart; before I knew what was happening I felt what must have been Helen’s tongue start licking my asshole. it felt great, but also tickled in a way I hadn’t experienced before; I didn’t dare try to close my legs or kick, but I couldn’t help but squirm, so I reached up and grabbed Paola’s hips to steady myself as the women worked me over. The sensation was driving me crazy between Whitney’s slow sucking strokes and Helen’s tongue running around my hole, every so often darting into my ass; when she did this my waist jumped, bringing me deeper into Whitney’s mouth. Noticing this, she stopped for a moment, I think inviting me to fuck her mouth as she held still; at least I hope so as I accepted her invitation, giving her a half-dozen pumps before she put her hand on my thigh, stopping me from moving my hips and going back to sucking me off. Helen changed to pistoning her tongue in and out of my ass, raping me with her mouth; after a minute of this she forced her tongue all the way in, pressing it against my prostate. I don’t know of any man alive who could survive that, and I certainly didn’t, blowing a huge load in Whitney’s mouth, both women continuing to toy with me until my ejaculation finished, the power of my climax leaving me even more drained than usual. Then they climbed off me and I was too beat to even move; I was sure this was it, but to my disbelief they started discussing getting another cum out of me:
“What do you think, he can go again, right?” Helen asked, reaching down and cupping my balls.
“I’m sure,” Paola giggled. “He’s young, isn’t he? You have something in mind?”
“Please,” I interrupted, begging. “I can’t cum anymore!”
“Oh, pish,” Helen scoffed. “I know you got another one in the chamber for me. Whitney, why don’t you hold him down?”
“Sure,” Whitney purred, sitting on my stomach, leaning forward and getting me in a loose titsmother. I felt someone licking my cock - Paola or Helen I don’t know - getting me to full extension again; then I felt Helen lowering herself onto me, the tip of my cock against her entrance; I could see just enough to tell she was going to do me reverse cowgirl style, then I was moaning into Whitney’s tits as her partner slid all the way down on my cock. Having cum three times, my dick was getting a little numb, and Helen went right to slamfucking me from the word go, her hips flying up and down as she rode me. I reached up and wrapped my arms around Whitney’s torso, just holding on for the ride as Helen had her way with me. I don’t know how long I lay under there; I’d believe two minutes or two hours, but inevitably Helen got what she wanted as I felt my balls starting to tingle, my hips weakly thrusting up as she brought me close to the edge, then she pushed me over; I managed what felt like a few weak spurts into her pussy. She kept fucking me through my climax and then after, stopping only as I began to get a little soft and fell out of her pussy. Whitney released me and I found myself staring up at a smiling Helen: “See? I knew you had it in ya!” She was right as a single strand of cum slowly oozed out of her pussy, the sign of my ultimate defeat. The three women left me there and took a victory lap, striding around the ring, hands up in victory, whipping up the crowd; I tried to crawl out of the ring without them noticing, but Whitney saw me, walking over with a chuckle: “Where you going, kid? I’ll decide when you can leave!”
“Can I leave?” I whined pathetically.
“What do you think!” Whitney screamed at the audience. “Can this chump leave?!” The crowd roared a no, and Whitney put her foot on my chest, holding me there and beckoning over Helen, who picked me up, carried me over to the ropes like a baby, lifted me over her head and teased throwing me out of the ring from there; I breathed a sigh of relief as she brought me back down, lowered me to the mat, and pushed me out of the ring with her foot. I hit the ground on my back, barely having enough energy to use the ring apron to pull myself to my feet and make it back up the ramp, followed by the catcalls of my victorious opponents and the taunting jeers of the crowd.

Sunday, July 15, 2018

Bodybuilding Teens vs Veteran MILFs Part 1 (M/F)

It was warm in the locker room; there was no air conditioning, and even though it was still early in the summer, it was a hot night. We’d all changed into our wrestling gear - Tyler was wearing swim trunks, Adam had on a bright pink T-back thong that showed off more of his butt than I ever needed to see, Luis had a navy blue wrestling singlet, Malik had plain black sweatpants, and I had on basketball shorts.
I think we were all nervous - we’d been recruited by flyers in the weight room of the campus gym, so we all knew each other, which was comforting, but none of us really knew how to wrestle - we’d been given a six-week course that covered the basics, but my suspicion was that we were basically here to get tossed around and make our opponents look good, and that the promoters had hired five strong guys who’d be able to go long enough to make the matches interesting. We were getting paid enough at least - I’d worked a lot longer for a lot less - but I think I would have been reassured if we’d been able to see our opponents ahead of time; all we knew about them was their names from the booking sheet taped up in our locker room:


TYLER vs PAOLA
ADAM vs CYNDI
LUIS vs WHITNEY
MALIK vs HELEN
BLAKE vs SALLY


Under that was a forest of ?’s - the survivors from each team would be part of a tag match (unless one team was completely wiped out, I guess). There were no refs and apparently no rules for the singles matches; during the tag match at the end the only rule was a time-limit on double-teams - each fighter past the first added 30 seconds, so a team of two would have 30 seconds allowed, a team of 3 would have a minute, a team of 4 would have a minute and a half, and a team of five would have already won, I guess. Between us we’d agreed (over Adam’s objections) not to do any double-teaming during the singles matches - some of us were hoping to get re-hired and didn’t want to take any chance angering the promoter breaking the rules.

It was time to head out to the ring. The arena was pretty small, although it looked like every seat was filled, mostly middle aged, more women than men; they gave us some polite applause as we walked down the ramp, four of us taking up positions on the apron, Tyler getting inbetween the ropes.
Our opponents were already waiting for us - a very pretty, curvy Latina MILF was standing in the middle of the ring vamping for the crowd, with her four partners mirroring our formation on the ring apron in the far corner. There was a fat white girl with fire-engine red hair down to her butt wearing a fake white fur coat, a super curvy white lady looking ready to burst out of her tiny leopard-pattern bikini, a tall, athletic, slim black woman with big implants, and a Asian cowgirl wearing an incredible, fringe and sequin covered blue and white cowboy hat, jacket, and boots over a one-piece with stockings.
The woman in the ring must have been Paola; Tyler got between the ropes to face her as the rest of us took our spots on the ring apron in the opposite corner from the women.

The first bout of the night was Tyler versus Paola. Both fighters are about 5'7", but Tyler is all lithe muscle, while his opponent Paola was a very pretty, extremely curvaceous Latina MILF. Tyler had his swim trunks on while his opponent was wearing a classic red two-piece bikini, already struggling mightily to contain her curves; I doubted her top was going to be able to stay on through any serious wrestling unless it was secured with a massive amount of double-sided tape. Tyler’s a pretty basic-looking white dude - short brown hair, a square jaw, his muscular body totally shaved. Paola was I’d guess maybe 45 years old, still very pretty with big, close-set dark eyes, a oval-shaped face and luscious lips. Her slightly curly brown hair hung down to her tan shoulders. She had a disarmingly nice smile.

The fighters met in the middle of the ring and circled warily; Tyler offered a lockup, but I don't know why he thought his opponent would go for this with his obvious strength advantage. Sure enough she darted under his hands, wrapping her arms around his midsection, lifting him off the mat with surprising strength, turning and slamming him down on his back with her on top. She tried to grapevine his legs, but Tyler threw her off quickly. They both got to their feet, circling again. Tyler's lack of training started showing as he offered another lockup for some reason.
"Fuck is he doing," Adam murmured.
"Come on, man!" Luis shouted. "Get her, man! Don't wait for her to come to you!" Tyler hesitated and looked into our corner. "No! Pay attention- ah, shit," Luis covered his face with his hands as Paola walked up to Tyler and kneed him hard in the stomach. Tyler's got strong abs, but he wasn't prepared for the hit, and bent over with a gasp. Paola linked her hands together and slammed them into Tyler's back, knocking him down to all fours; she stepped forward and got a standing head-scissors on Tyler, blowing kisses into our corner as our teammate moaned and pulled on her legs. This should have been easy to escape, but I realized as I looked at the older woman squeezing my teammates head that her thighs were oiled, and he was having trouble getting a solid grip to force his way out.
“Push, don’t pull!” I yelled. “Get your hands in there!” To my immense relief Tyler followed my advice, putting his hands together and inserting them between his opponent’s legs and then pushing them apart; this worked better and he was able to free himself, although as he flopped to the mat I could see that his face was beet red.
"Look! Paola hooted. "He's blushing! You want to get back between my thighs, little boy?" Tyler turned even redder, his opponent graciously allowing him to get up to his feet.
"You got this, man!" Luis yelled from our corner, trying to calm Tyler down. Luis started clapping and I joined in; I'm not sure how much good this did as Tyler closed with his opponent and she easily faked him out by going left, then darting around to his right when he tried to grab her. She got behind him and trapped his left arm in a hammerlock, making him yelp and bend over in an attempt to alleviate the torquing pressure on his arm. Paola pulled him back vertical, then used her free hand to push him down to his knees, standing behind him; with him in position she leaned down and reached around his body, into his trunks, laughing as her team cheered her on. I could tell from the corner that she was stroking his dick, and Tyler seemed paralyzed, his face going from shock to slack with pleasure.
“Look out, man!” Luis screamed. “Get out of there, man! You don’t wanna let her do that to you!” Tyler’s only response was to lean back against his opponent with a moan, the back of his head resting against her tits.
I covered my ears as Adam shrieked “Tyler!!!” loud enough to wake the dead. This finally seemed to snap my teammate out of the haze of pleasure Paola had trapped him in, coming to with a start; he threw his free arm back, elbowing Paola in the thigh, and she winced, losing the hammerlock. Tyler reached back and snapmared her over his shoulder, and she hit the mat on her back with a grunt. He got to his feet, and I yelled for him to attack - he had the advantage for the first time in the match - but I guess this was hoping for too much as he shook his head, taking a breather and letting Paola get up. They closed and Tyler tried to grab her, but she went around to his left, hitting him with a hard side kick to the stomach. I could see him brace for the hit, and although it still looked painful, he managed to endure it without getting winded - a surprise to Paola, I think, who must’ve thought he’d be bent over from the blow; instead he lunged at her, trying to grab her. She managed to duck backwards just enough for him to miss her body, but his left hand grabbed her bikini top, and he tried to use this to pull her towards him.
Instead, it snapped - honestly, I was surprised it was still on this far into the match - leaving Paola topless and Tyler gawking at her big, bare tits. Before I could take a deep breath and yell at him not to just stand there, Paola wrapped him up in a hug, pressing her naked breasts into his chest. She tripped him down to the mat, coming down with him and landing hard on top of him; this knocked the wind out of him, and my teammate was in a bad spot as Paola grapevined his legs and pinned his wrists to the mat. Tyler tried to throw her off, without any luck, his opponent giggling as she held him down. She waited until he gave up the attempt, then lifted her upper body off him, scooting up as much as she could while keeping the grapevine locked on. This put Tyler’s face directly below her big hanging tits, and she lowered the left one over his face; it was big enough to totally cover his nose and mouth. She held him there like that for a second and then switched breasts, but before she could pancake the right one over his face he leaned up, trying to grab her nipple with his mouth.
“No, you don’t!” she barked. “Stay down, big man! I’ll knock you out with my titties right now!” With that she lowered her torso a little and started swinging her boobs back and forth, smacking them into Tyler’s face repeatedly. This looked more humiliating than debilitating, and I hoped Tyler would get a chance to recover, but after a few seconds of this his opponent leaned down, trapping Tyler in a titsmother. I could see his body flexing as he tried to get out, but Paola had all the leverage; with his legs grapevined and his wrists pinned to the mat, he couldn’t do anything but suffocate between her tits. For good measure I could see him pitching a tent through his trunks; Paola made sure to rub her crotch against his (at first I wondered how she knew he was fully erect like this without being able to see, then realized she’s probably used this move against a hundred guys; she sure had it locked on like a pro).
With a sinking heart I think we all realized this was it for Tyler; Paola had him right where she wanted him, and he wasn’t getting out of this until she released him. She kept him in the hold maybe a few minutes, and by the time she leaned up so she was sitting on his stomach, he was beyond any resistance, laying flat on his back panting, a sweaty mess. Paola swung around so she was facing his feet.
“Let’s see what we’re working with,” she purred as she stripped Tyler, slipping his suit off. He was fully erect (well, who wouldn’t be). “Ooh, is this for me?” she grabbed his hard cock and leaned down, blowing on the head. Adam was yelling at Tyler to fight back and Luis was encouraging him to get up, but I stayed quiet; I knew he was finished as Paola dipped her head down, taking his tip into her mouth.
“Your boy’s done for!” one of Paola’s teammates - the black lady; Whitney, I think? - yelled at us. “Nobody gets out of that lip-lock!” Paola slid her ruby-red lips down Tyler’s shaft slowly, clearly relishing her work, until she bottomed out, then started sliding back up just as slowly to Tyler’s credit he tried to reach up to do - actually I don’t know what; I guess it didn’t matter as she  grabbed his arms, pinning his wrists to the mat again. After that Tyler lay still as she expertly sucked his cock with excruciatingly long, slow strokes, stopping every time she reached his crown; I could tell from the small motion in her cheeks that she was caressing the tip of his cock with her tongue. As she sucked his cock she started adding more techniques; sometimes she’d nibble on the head, or deepthroat him, taking his entire rod into her mouth and sucking like a vacuum. Tyler was completely under her spell, and after a few minutes of Paola’s oral attack, he gave it all up, cumming into her mouth on a downstroke, his hips bucking weakly as he climaxed. Paola finished the stroke, holding his dick between her lips as he finished.
After that I thought the match was over, but instead Paola stayed on top of Tyler, holding just the tip in her mouth for a minute or two; then she started blowing him again, her team cheering her on. This time instead of torturing him with slow, teasing motions, she started jackhammering her head up and down, fucking Tyler’s cock with her mouth. I can only credit him just having cum for him managing to hold out as long as he did, but even so less than a minute later he was cumming into his opponent’s mouth again, screaming in ecstasy as Paola pushed him over the edge, greedily sucking down his load.
She climbed off him, running her tongue around her lips and holding her hands over her head in victory, planting one foot on Tyler’s chest. She turned to us: “Come get your boy, he’s finished!”
Luis and I got between the ropes and pulled Tyler up to his feet; we had to support him on our shoulders, slowly shuffling to the back with him between us. Adam and Malik followed us.
Backstage, we got Tyler laid out across a bench. He was too tired to move, but otherwise fine; Paola had hurt his pride more than anything else. Adam was up next, but before he went back out he started harassing our fallen warrior:
"Jesus, Tyler, what the fuck was that? She just sucks your dick a little and you give up?"
"Fuck off,” Tyler panted. I'd like to see you do better."
"Yeah? You're about to. All you little pussies watch this!” He stomped out of the locker room; with one last glance at Tyler, I followed, curious to see if Adam could live up to his boasting.

The next fight was Adam versus a stacked, tanned white blonde named Cyndi, the woman in the leopard print bikini. Adam is our second-biggest fighter, but he looked a little small compared to his opponent; she only had two inches on him (5’10” to 5’8”), but where Adam’s body was slim and trim, Cyndi was incredibly curvaceous, even more than Paola; I couldn’t begin to estimate her cup size, but each one of her tits was almost as big as her head, and in back she sported a huge, round ass. Both fighters are blonde, Adam’s hair cut short like the rest of us - we were all worried about the ladies grabbing our hair - in a asymmetrical cut, shorter on the left than the right. Cyndi’s was up in two long, thick pigtails.
Adam has green eyes and somewhat small features, his mouth almost always in a sneer or a mean smile; Cyndi had deep-set blue eyes, a slightly large nose and lips with a very defined cupid’s bow (the upper lip shape - I googled it after the match after noticing how pronounced hers was). Cyndi seemed like one of the younger fighters on her team, maybe mid 30’s, so still almost double her opponent’s age. She was wearing a tiny leopard-print two-piece bikini, while Adam was sporting a no bigger hot pink T-backed thong.

Cyndi offered a handshake that Adam just started at coldly, drawing some ooooooo’s from the crowd; Cyndi dropped her hand and instead offered up a test of strength. Adam locked his hands with hers, but then immediately kicked her between the legs, drawing boos from the small crowd and angry yells from the women’s corner. Cyndi went down to her knees with a gasp, Adam smiling a nasty little smile and barking at his opponent that whores like her should be on their knees. Cyndi tried to push up, but she looked shaken from the dirty hit, and Adam drew his right leg back and smashed his knee into her face, releasing her hands at the same time, leaving the older fighter to collapse on her side, covering her nose and mouth where she’d been hit.
Thirty seconds into the match it sounded like the crowd wanted to murder Adam, who stopped to flip them off before striding over to Cyndi, kicking her onto her chest. He reached down to unhook her top, but she scurried away from him, rolling up to her feet in what looked like pure ring instinct; she still seemed a bit dazed and running on autopilot as she closed with Adam. He had his fists up like a boxer and came in throwing hard hooks at his older opponent; Cyndi took one hit into her big gut with a grunt, but paid Adam back with her own crushing right hook to his jaw, turning his head with the impact. Now it was Adam’s turn to be stunned, and Cyndi pressed the attack, kneeing him hard in the stomach and bending him over, locking her left arm around his neck. She took a few running steps backwards, pulling Adam with her, then threw herself back onto the mat, driving the top of his head into the canvas in a high-impact DDT. Adam ended up flat on his back, staring up at the lights and panting. With a woop Cyndi jumped in the air and landed ass-first on Adam, all of her weight driving the air out of him with a strangled gasp. She leaned forward and stuffed his face between her huge tits to applause and cheers from her team.
“You need to learn some manners, little boy!” Cyndi shouted. “I’m gonna -”
She never got any farther as, unlike Paola, she wasn’t holding her opponent down; Adam simply heaved Cyndi off him to his right, and she landed on her back. Both fighters got up, Adam breathing hard and looking hurt from the butt drop, Cyndi glowing and waving her young opponent on. Adam got his fists up in a boxer’s stance again; Cyndi matched him, taking his opening jab on her forearms, throwing a powerful but slow return right hook Adam weaved past. He darted forward and slammed a straight punch into Cyndi’s left breast, his fist almost disappearing into her huge tit. She screamed, covering her chest, and he bent her over with another kick between her legs, pulling her head between his thighs and slapping a standing headscissors on his opponent. His didn’t look quite as elegant as Paola’s in the debut match, but it seemed effective enough as Cyndi gripped the backs of his knees. Adam, smirking, reached down and unhooked her bikini top, then released the headscissors before Cyndi even had time to try and pull his legs apart; he went to Cyndi’s right side, wrapping the top around her neck and pulling. Cyndi, choking, tried to pull the top away, but he had it locked on tight; he used just his left hand to keep the stranglehold on, using his right hand to start landing clubbing blows on Cyndi’s shoulder, driving her down to her knees with a half dozen, then onto her chest; he sat on her back, switching back to a double-handed choke, pulling Cyndi’s top back savagely as she helplessly gagged and kicked under him. I could see the material digging into her neck as she frantically pawed at it, her eyes bugging out, then her tongue falling out of her mouth as she thrashed; her hands fell away from her neck and her eyes rolled back in her head. Adam gave the top a few more yanks before finally unhooking it. Cyndi’s neck was bright red, and from the way she lay limply on her chest drooling onto the mat, it looked like she might be completely out cold. Adam rolled her onto her back, then dropped a leg across her windpipe; Cyndi made a noise that sounded like “blegack” and came to with a gagging cough, holding her neck and gasping. Her opponent pulled her up on all fours; Adam was clearly enjoying humiliating his opponent and gave Cyndi a mean wedgie, pulling her leopard-print bottoms so far up her crack they disappeared from view between her big, round asscheeks. Adam used this grip along with grabbing one of her pigtails to make her crawl around the ring on her hands and knees.
The whole time he’d been destroying Cyndi, her partners had been yelling threats and taunts at Adam; I was ready to jump into the ring if they tried anything - not that I could blame them if they did - and they were understandably even more upset at Adam humiliating their teammate, although they all stayed on the apron.
After a minute or two of Adam dragging Cyndi around, I yelled “Finish her!” - mostly because I was afraid she was going to recover and uppercut his balls or something, but also because I was kind of hoping to keep the match friendly, and our opponents were ready to murder my teammate. When it was my turn to get into the ring, if my opponent ended up defeating me, I didn’t want her to avenge Cyndi on me. Adam, of course, made a point to keep humiliating Cyndi just long enough to flout my advice; eventually he did leave off, releasing his opponent, taking a step back, then charging forward with a punt into her stomach. His kick had so much force it flopped Cyndi over on her back, gasping and holding her tummy. I was tempted to yell “Finish her” again, but decided to just watch. Adam grabbed Cyndi’s pigtails and pulled her up to her feet, keeping her bent over, pulling her head between his legs, bending over her, locking his arms around her midsection, leaning back to a standing position and taking her with him, holding her upside down like he was about to deliver a piledriver. Instead of landing the move, Adam held her there in admittedly an impressive feat of strength, doing a 360 degree spin to show off, shouting “Yeah! Yeah!” over the boos of the women’s team. Having driven his dominance home, he finally went for the piledriver, driving Cyndi’s head hard into the mat, releasing her with the impact; she flopped over bonelessly on her chest. Adam stopped to pose, arms high in the air, then pulled off his bottoms, shaking his hard cock at Cyndi’s enraged teammates. She still hadn’t stirred as Adam pulled her up to her knees; she looked exhausted, barely able to keep her head up, let alone resist her opponent. Adam, smirking, grabbed one thick pigtail with his left hand and started slapping her face with the other, reddening her cheeks as she gasped and started sobbing. He turned to yell at us over his shoulder: "This is how you do it, pussies! Watch this!" Switching to a double-handed grip, he pulled Cyndi closer to his crotch, forcing the tip of his cock between her lips, using her pigtails like handles as he started roughly fucking her mouth. Her team jeered and taunted Adam, but they were drowned out by the crowd cheering and clapping his display of dominance. Cyndi managed to get her hands up and braced on Adam's hips, but nothing else; after a minute of pumping he reached his climax, emitting louder and louder animalistic grunts until he started spurting in his beaten opponent's mouth, howling at her to suck it all down.
Finished, he released Cyndi, roughly shoving her down to the mat, laying her out flat on her back, then straddled her head, laying his sweaty balls across her face and raising his hands over his head, counting Cyndi out, which I guess was the official finish of the match - at least nobody disputed that he’d won and tied it up 1-1 for us.  We were all clapping loudly for our teammate, but as we did so Luis leaned over to me and whispered "We're never gonna hear the end of this!"

There was a short break as two of the women took Cyndi to the back. Whitney - I was right, it was the tall black lady - climbed into the ring to face Luis, and right away I could see the height mismatch - Luis is 5’6” and was at least four inches shorter than his opponent, who must’ve been at least 5’10” with long, toned legs. In fact, her whole body looked pretty ripped; she had a toned stomach, sleekly muscled limbs, and what looked like high-quality implants that were honestly just a little big for her body type. I’d guess her age at early or maybe even mid 40’s, but black don’t crack, so who knows. She had a heart-shaped face, dark eyes framed with just a touch of eyeliner, and lucious lips. Her dark hair was cut into a long-ish layered flip in the back with small, cute bangs in front. She was wearing a black bikini top and jean shorts, with a black thong visible underneath these - the thong straps were higher on her hips than the low-cut booty shorts.
Luis had on the most appropriate outfit of anyone, a navy-blue wrestling singlet - I honestly wish I’d thought of that, as it seemed like it would offer the most protection. Like the rest of us Luis is pretty built, so it looked like this was going to be strength versus speed.

Luckily it looked like there wasn’t much bad blood between the teams after what Adam had done; Whitney winked at Luis, then turned around, grabbed the top ropes and started twerking at him. After a minute of this she slapped her booty with a laugh and came out to meet Luis in the center of the ring. I don’t think any of us had realized the fight had started - there was no bell or anything - and as Whitney charged Luis barely had time to raise his hands; she lunged at him, going for a grab, but he barely managed to duck backwards, leaving Whitney to close her arms over empty air, unbalancing herself. Luis capitalized quickly, stepping forward and locking his arms around her, lifting her up and delivering a textbook suplex. Whitney hit the mat on her back with a grunt, rolling up to her feet and facing off with Luis before he could press his attack any further; unfortunately, all of our opponents seemed to have excellent ring instincts, keeping themselves guarded at all times.
Luis came at her looking to grapple, but she used her long legs to start delivering punishing kicks; the first two hit Luis in the sides, and when he tried to catch her feet she got him square on the left kneecap with the third. He froze, holding his leg, and she dropped into a crouch, sweeping his legs out from under him, dumping him on his butt; then she she leapt at him, knocking him down on his back with her on top. She tried to grapevine his legs, but I guess Luis had seen how dangerous this was and started wildly flailing. After thirty seconds or so of struggling she gave up on this, moving up to sit on his midsection, then she lifted herself a foot off him, dropping her butt down into his stomach. She repeated the move, twice, each time leaving Luis a little more stunned; after the third she must have figured he was weakened enough for the next move and scooted forward to apply a facesit.
“Ahhhhhhhh, yeah!” she crowed, rubbing her crotch all over Luis’ face. I could just imagine how uncomfortable this probably felt with her rough-textured jean shorts still on; luckily it seemed Luis wasn’t out of it yet, as he went right for an escape attempt, putting his hands under her hips and trying to force her off. Whitney grabbed his wrists and tried to stop him, but his strength won out as he managed to push his opponent up and off him. Freed, he tried to roll backwards and get to his feet, but our team’s skills are, um, less developed than our opponent’s, and he was considerably slower at this; he left Whitney plenty of time to stand up, run backwards into the ropes, bounce off, and, as Luis stood, jump and catch him in a very impressive headscissors, her momentum bringing them both back down to the mat. Luis ended up on his back, his head trapped between Whitney’s strong thighs; she was laying at a 90 degree angle to him, her feet on his right side and the rest of her on his left; she grabbed his left hand and pinned it to the mat, leaving Luis one free hand, which he used to start slapping her legs ineffectively.
“Get your hand in there!” I yelled. “Pry ‘em apart!” He did as I suggested, trying to push his hand between Whitney’s legs; Whitney for her part looked right at me with a throaty chuckle: “You’re real optimistic, kid!” I could see the muscles in her legs flexing as she squeezed and released Luis’ head; his attempt to get his hand in there had failed, and now he was just holding onto her legs as she worked the scissors. For extra embarrassment he was sporting wood, clearly visible even though his singlet. Just about the only thing going for him was that Whitney couldn’t quite reach his crotch the way they were laying, but that was cold comfort indeed. Whitney stifled a stage yawn and then pretended to fall asleep as she kept squeezing Luis’ head; I could see the energy going out of him as he went from trying to escape, to just trying to hang on, to helpless thrashing, until he lay totally still and I wondered if he was knocked out.
Eventually Whitney pretended to wake up and, mercifully, released Luis, but the damage was done; he wasn’t totally out cold, but looked at best half-awake as Whitney grabbed his ankles. For a second I thought she was going to drag him into her corner to get ganged up on by her team, but instead she started pulling him towards one of the empty corners; she spun him 180 degrees, laying him down with his head resting on the bottom turnbuckle, straddling him. She flipped her top up without removing it, freeing her huge fake tits, and started smacking his face back and forth with her boobs - at first this looked like just a humiliation move, but as I saw Luis’ head getting turned left and right with the impact, I wondered how much damage her implants were really doing. At least one part of him looked to be feeling good as Whitney reached behind her into his singlet - I could see her starting to jerk him off while taunting him: “You about finished? Yeah, just lay there. I’ll make you feel real good!”

For once none of us had anything to yell at our teammate; we all just stared into the corner, waiting to see if he was going to submit to his opponent or not. For  moment it looked like he was finished as he lay back against the turnbuckle, grunting each time one of Whitney’s big tits smacked him in the face - but he was just waiting for his spot; as Whitney twisted her torso for another hit he leaned up, his lips latching onto her left nipple. Whitney froze as he started tonguing her tits. “Ah, fuck,” Whitney mumbled, seemingly paralyzed by pleasure - she must have really been feeling it as she even stopped jerking him off. Luis started feeling her other breast with his hands, teasing her hard nippple; Whitney’s teammates tried to snap her back to reality, but she closed her eyes and started moaning. Our corner came to life, clapping for our fighter, who had apparently turned the tide on his older opponent. He gently pushed her off him, taking her down on her back and laying on top of her, still sucking on her chest; he pinned her wrists to the mat, but just when I thought he was in control, Whitney snapped her long legs shut around his midsection. “Not gonna be that easy, kid,” she grunted. It looked like it still might be as she tried and failed to free her arms from Luis’ grasp; the fighters had each other trapped, and it was going to come down to a race between Whitney squeezing the fight out of Luis or him finishing her with his mouth on her tits.
Looking back I have to wonder if this was a trap Whitney set; at the time it seemed like Luis had her almost gone, but there was no way for him to get access to her pussy in this position, and with a sinking heart I watched as she annihilated him with her strong legs, squeezing the fight out of him. Luis fought until the end, but eventually he started slowing down and then went limp in her scissors, his face coming to rest between her tits. Whitney laughed, pumping her legs, keeping him there for a minute longer to make sure he was really done; then she released him and flipped her top back down, covering her spit-soaked tits to the displeasure of the audience. “Now hold on!” she yelled. “You’re gonna see something special right now! Don’t start those boos just yet!” She unzipped Luis’ singlet and stripped him naked, then rolled him onto his back; his cock was still hard and she got between his legs, fitting it between her breasts. I saw now why she’d bothered to put her bra back on like this - it kept her tits pressed together around my teammates’ shaft, adding extra power to what was frankly an already impressive titfuck. She started slow, waiting for Luis to wake up; when he did she shouted “You fell into my booby trap, sucker!” She increased the pace, making Luis moan as she slid her tits up and down his rod. “Don’t even need my hands to break you,” she taunted, using just her elbows to control her breasts. “Right? You done, kid? Yeah, I thought so! You just lay there, I’ll make you feel realllllllll good!”
Luis managed to get up on his elbows, but that was all; I saw the moment he gave up and laid back, surrendering to his opponent’s will as she laughed with delight. He didn’t last long, cumming hard, his hips bucking up as Whitney pushed him over the edge. To officially end the match she crawled on top of him, laying her cum-spattered tits over his face in the finishing touch.

Malik and I dragged Luis to the back, Adam following us and complaining the whole way up the ramp. We barely had the guy laid out on a bench before Adam started screaming at him:
"What the fuck was that?! You didn't even get her top off, bro!"
"Hey, leave him alone," I started. Adam threw his hands up in disgust and stomped off as Luis covered his face with his hands.. "Come on, you did fine." I wasn't really sure what to say to comfort him and patted him slightly awkwardly on the shoulder. "We're still getting paid, right?"
"Yeah, man. Look, you better get back out there, man. Malik's real nervous, and he needs someone to support him, right?"
“Yeah - you sure you’re alright?”
Tyler came over wearing a towel: “I’ll make sure he’s fine. Go get ‘em.”

I made it back out to the ring and took my place in our corner just before the fighters for the next match were going to be introduced. Adam shook his head at my lateness, but didn't say anything.

We were down 2-1, and frankly if I thought anyone could turn it around for us, it was our fighter in the next match; he’s the strongest and the handsomest, so maybe he could overpower or distract his opponent or something. Malik has close-cropped black hair, a square jaw, light green eyes and high cheekbones. The only thing missing was height; at 5’8” he was giving up two inches to his opponent - although she was wearing cowgirl boots while he was in bare feet. I gave her the once over: She was a early middle aged, slim Asian woman who I’m guessing was named Helen Hasegawa from the blue and white, glittery, fringe-covered jacket with HELEN HASEGAWA picked out in sequins on the back.
She had on a simple, conservatively-cut blue one-piece - what really stood out were the accessories; besides her jacket, she had a sparkly blue cowboy hat and white, bedazzled cowboy boots. She completed the look with blue eyeshadow, dark lipstick and sparkly blue nail polish. She was pretty enough, if a little plain - oval face, small mouth, long black hair just to her shoulders, cut simply from what I could see under her hat.
She took the jacket off, showing the sleek muscles in her arms; maybe Malik wouldn’t have as much of a strength advantage as I had hoped - and it looked like she was going to wrestle with the hat and boots. Malik would have to watch out for her feet if she stepped on his toes or kicked him.

It was obvious Malik was jittery; it looked like he was sweating already, he kept shifting feet, and he was clearly pitching a tent. Helen was smiling at him, and she went up to talk to him: "You nervous?" Malik nodded and she pulled him in for a hug; from where I was in our corner I could see her mouth "You should be" in his ear before breaking the hug, still smiling at him. She backed off a little bit and took up a grappling stance; Malik mirrored this and they started the match with Helen striking first, stunning Malik with a quick left to the jaw, then picking him up and throwing him down to the mat back-first in a simple if painful-looking bodyslam. She dropped an elbow into his stomach - he wasn’t braced for the hit and groaned with the impact - then pulled him up to his feet and threw him into the ropes. We’d all been trained to turn our backs to the ropes and bounce off, and as Malik did so Helen hit a huge dropkick, jumping and slamming the bottom of her boots into Malik’s face, her hat falling off as he rolled backwards and came to rest on his back, hands covering his nose and mouth.
Helen pulled a reeling Malik to his feet, getting in front of him, bracing the top of her head against the bottom of his chin, then jumped in the air and pulled him down with her, delivering a nasty jawbreaker. Malik fell backwards and landed hard on the mat, looking like he was down for the count less than a minute into the match as Helen stopped to pick up her hat and stick it back on her head.
“Hey,” I elbowed Adam. “We gotta buy him some time to recover.”
“I got it,” Adam whispered back. Then he cupped his hands to his mouth and screamed: “Hey Helen, I heard you got a slanted pussy!” I stared at him aghast as Helen whirled to look at us: “What did you just say, bucko?!” She angrily came over to our corner, admittedly giving poor Malik a chance to come to his senses.
“He said it,” Adam pointed at me.
“What?! I did not!”
“You!” Helen screamed at Adam. “You’re already in line for an ass whippin’, kid! And you -” she turned to me - “better hope I don’t catch you in that tag match, partner!” With that she turned and stomped off as Adam stage-whispered “I think you made her mad!”
At the least, Malik had gotten back to his feet by now and looked like he’d had a chance to catch his breath; Helen grabbed at him but he nimbly sidestepped, throwing an elbow into her stomach. She bent over in front of him and Malik got her in a front facelock, snapping off a beautiful DDT- he’d clearly been paying attention during our training - leaving Helen flat on her back. Her hat had come off again, and as Malik took a step back he accidently stepped on it, crushing it flat under his foot. He looked down at it like it was an alien organism, giving Helen time to catch her breath.
“Bro!” Adam screamed. “Fucking finish her!”
But it was too late - Helen was back on her feet, staring at her crushed hat, her gaze slowly moving up to her opponent. Malik held his hands up in a it-was-an-accident apology pose, which did him no good as Helen charged him with a whoop, picking him up in a bearhug and squeezing him. His arms were free, and he managed to get his hands on her shoulders, trying to break the hold; it looked like this was going to work, and Helen teased an atomic drop - I saw Malik freeze and wail “Nooooooooooo!” from our corner - but at the last second instead turned and slammed him down to the mat on his back. She stomped on his tummy a few times with her cowboy boots, then went to his side, clapped and hit a standing moonsault. She pressed her attack, Malik not resisting as she grabbed his arms and dragged him over to one of the empty corners. She gripped the top ropes to steady herself as she gave Malik some more hard stomps with her cowboy boots, stunning him long enough for her to go back to the center of the ring and pick up her smushed hat. She went back to the corner and laid it over Malik face, then hopped up onto the top turnbuckle; from there she jumped, landing boot-first on Malik’s hat-covered face in what looked like a finishing move; his body jumped with the impact, and when Helen whipped her hat off, he looked at best half-conscious, a trickle of blood oozing out of his nose, his eyes wide and glassy. Helen moved him a little, laying with his head resting on the middle turnbuckle, then retreating to the middle of the ring; she ran at her comatose opponent and jumped, impacting his face crotch-first, grabbing the top ropes and giving Malik a bronco buster to the delight of the audience. He’d gone a bit limp when Helen had stomped on his face from the top rope, but by the time she finished her bronco buster he was clearly back to full extension; when Helen got off him and stepped away from the corner I could see she was turned on too, sporting a wet spot on the crotch of her swimsuit.
It looked like she was ready to go to the finish as she ran around the ring, yelling at the crowd: “Y’all wanna see why I’m the cowgirl?!” She stopped to slap hands with her surviving teammates while the crowd whooped, then walked over to Malik - still laying in the corner - kicking off her boots, unzipping her suit and shedding it, then putting her boots back on and perching her stomped-flat hat back on her head. She yanked off Malik’s sweatpants and started blowing him, one hand working his balls. Malik groaned, but was still beyond fighting back; Helen worked his shaft for just a few seconds before changing grips, getting a double-handed hold on the base of his cock, her tongue flicking all over his head. She finished teasing him, and with a squeeze she decided he was hard enough; she released him, straddling him and grabbing the middle ropes with one hand, parting her lower lips with the other, milking the moment as she teased the crowd, rubbing Malik’s tip against her entrance. Then she sunk down on his cock, taking every inch of his black rod, moaning as she bottomed out.
“Uhhhhh, you’re big,” she moaned. “But you won’t last long with me, big man!” I pleaded with Malik to do something while Adam screamed at him to fight back, but our teammate was deaf to our shouts, laying under Helen as she worked her hips up and down, staring into his eyes. She broke down his resistance with short, fast strokes focused on his tip, occasionally mixing in longer hip movements, bottoming out on him. Malik did make one weak escape attempt, reaching up to grab Helen’s hips, but she simply took her hands off the ropes and grabbed his wrists, pinning them to the mat; after that, true to her word, he didn’t last long. I could see his legs twitching as he started cumming inside her; she rode him through his climax, then climbed off him looking like the cat who got the cream, sliding up and giving my fallen teammate a creampie. She got off on his face, gripping the middle ropes again, throwing her head back in a scream of pleasure as she climaxed.
While this had been going on Tyler and Luis had come out from the back; when Helen finally climbed off Malik, having coated his face with his own cum and her juices, she simply rolled him out of the ring, to be helped to the back.  I watched him go, but just for a second; it was time for my match.
“Don’t embarrass me,” Adam hissed as I stepped between the ropes. I was worried enough about embarrassing myself.

My opponent got into the ring and I sized her up - as much as possible; from the neck down she was covered in a floor-length white fur coat. This must be Sally. She looked like she was middle-aged, with a round face, pretty grey eyes, and a slightly wide nose and mouth. She was wearing a touch of eyeliner and blush, along with bright red lipstick, almost the same color as her waist-length fire engine red hair. She met my gaze with a smile, and as if she was doing it just for me she unzipped her coat, dipping her shoulder and letting it slowly slide off, revealing what I can only describe as a boob harness, leather straps above and below her tits (with nothing inbetween, so you could see her bare, pale, saggy breasts, topped with already-hard, large pink nipples). I almost did a double-take seeing she had no bottoms on, her thick bush and big, doughy butt on free display; below that were black leather thigh-high hooker boots that her coat pooled around as she shrugged it off.
She winked at me: “You like?” She locked her eyes on the bulge in my thin basketball shorts. “Ooo, I guess you do. You know,” she started strutting over to me, “we’re gonna have to top that last performance. I’m counting on you, babe.” She put her hand on my chest. “You’re gonna have to take me to the bone zone.”
I hadn’t expected her to say something that goofy and stifled a laugh. She offered me a handshake and I accepted; there was definitely muscle under the flab in her arms as she was surprisingly strong. She took a step back to start the match, but before I could even take up my wrestling stance Adam started yelling at her over my shoulder: “Hey, hambeast! Don’t squash my partner with that big cottage-cheese ass!”
Sally stepped past me to yell back at Adam, pointing angrily: “Keep talking shit, little boy!” Adam was smirking at her, but he locked eyes with me and I figured out his plan; he wanted me to attack her from behind. For a second I considered this - it’s a bit of a dick move - and after seeing how our team had been mostly demolished, I decided I needed every edge I could get on my opponent. (And don’t go thinking Adam was doing this to be nice; his chances if it was him against four women was basically zero, and it was higher - maybe not much, but still - with me surviving to team up with him.)  “After I’m done with this guy, you’re next!” Sally bellowed at my teammate. “You-” her threat became a yelp as I got behind her, linking my arms around her soft tummy and lifted her over my head, slamming her back down on her shoulders with a German suplex; I wanted to hold on, but it took more force than I anticipated to lift her, and I ended up releasing her as she hit; she rolled onto her chest, stunned.
“Get that hamplanet!” Adam shrieked. (Now he was just being a dick.) I ignored him, reaching down to grab two handfuls of Sally’s bright red hair to pull her up, making a rookie mistake - she wasn’t as stunned as I thought and nailed me with an uppercut ball slap. The shorts did nothing to protect me and I stumbled backwards holding my crotch. Sally got to her feet and came around to my side, nailing me with a kneelift into my stomach that had me gasping. She whipped me into the ropes, and I bounced off right into a monster clothesline, her forearm smashing into my jaw; I ended up flat on my back. Sally threw herself into the ropes and bounced off; I realized she was going for a splash and rolled out of the way, too late for my opponent to stop herself as she jumped and landed on her front side with a meaty splat. I got up to my feet quickly, going to Sally’s right side as she got to her knees, racking my brain for the basic offensive moves we’d been shown; I slapped on what I feel was a pretty solid armwringer, grabbing her wrist and twisting it all the way around. Sally screamed and grabbed her shoulder with her other hand, so I guess I was doing it right. Pressing my attack, I pulled her to her feet with the hold and started laying kicks into her soft tummy. She gasped or cried out with each kick, but couldn’t escape; any time she made a move I twisted her arm, and when she covered her gut with her free hand, I kicked her in the tits - this made her shriek and she moved that hand quickly, letting me go back to targeting her stomach.
Now I thought this was working pretty well - I could hear Sally moaning in pain whenever I wrenched her arm, and she was gasping and panting from my kicks - but I guess I wasn’t working quick enough for Adam as he screamed “Finish that ham galaxy!” Well. I suppose I was ready to move to another mode of attack anyway, and I gave up the armwringer, going in front of Sally, grabbing the back of her head and throwing her over my shoulder with, if I say so myself, a perfectly-executed snapmare, leaving my opponent laying flat on her back. Her big tits made an inviting target, and I ran the ropes, bouncing off and running at her, aiming for a legdrop across her chest; unfortunately Sally moved at the last moment, and I ended up landing heavily on my butt. Sally got up to her feet pretty quickly considering how badly I thought I’d just hurt her; I rolled backwards, getting to my feet as well, and we circled as I watched her hands intently, waiting to see what she’d try.
Instead of getting her hands in a guard, she cupped her tits where I’d kicked them. “Damn, kid, you play kinda rough. That’s okay,” she smiled, “I can play pretty rough too.” Oh, shit, what did that mean? Was she going to go after my balls? I thought I’d read her correctly as she darted forward, her right hand going low, but it turned out to be a feint that completely fooled me; her left fist slammed into my stomach, stunning me, and she grabbed my shoulders, pulling me towards her and down, slamming her hard kneecap into my belly button. Now I’ve got a pretty strong stomach from working out, but without my abs flexed that doesn’t do me much good, and she caught me by surprise; I ended up on my right side, holding my midsection. Sally rolled me onto my back, screamed “This is how you do it!” and landed a legdrop of her own across my neck. Her thick thigh landed right on my windpipe, leaving me struggling to breathe, unable to fight back as she pulled me up to my knees facing her. “And here’s where a man belongs!” she yelled. She drew her right hand back and gave me a tremendous slap, turning my head with the impact: “That’s for hitting my titties!” She hit me with a just as powerful backhand, turning my head the other way: “That’s for something else you did!” My cheeks were burning as I saw her draw her hand back; this one would be a punch, her fist closed. The slaps were bad enough; I really didn’t want to take that knockout punch and quickly stood, hooking my right arm through Sally’s legs and picking her up; she yelled in surprise, then screamed as I slammed her down to the mat on her back.
I grabbed her ankles, pulling her legs up and apart; I felt a little bad about what I was about to do, but she’d already said I was playing rough - might as well live up to that, I thought, lifting up my foot. Sally looked up to see what I was doing, bellowing “Don’t you dare -” which turned into a howl of agony as my foot came down and I nailed the pussy stomp. Sally covered her crotch with her hands, and I laid off. I could have tried to keep attacking her crotch, but all I had wanted to do was keep her from fighting back - it’s not like I had any particular desire to destroy her pussy or anything - so I threw her legs to the side, straddling her and dropping my weight into her tummy. Sally gasped at the impact, grabbing my hips and trying to shove me off her, but she was momentarily weakened and I had no trouble keeping my seat, grabbing her wrists and pinning them to the mat.
What now? Well, I didn’t want to release her wrists, which meant I couldn’t use my hands, but another avenue of attack suggested itself as I looked at Sally’s rock-hard nipples. I lowered my mouth to her right breast, slowly running my tongue over it, savoring her little moans. I teased her nipple with my tongue before taking it into my mouth, sucking on it gently. I moved my left ankle so it pinned her wrist to the mat so I could use my left hand, cupping and kneading her left breast. She didn’t seem to be fighting back, and I took a chance, lifting my weight off her, sliding my right leg between her thighs and pressing it against her bare pussy. I kept this up for a few minutes; Sally’s teammates were yelling at her to get me off, but she just laid there and let me work her over, at least until I released her wrist with my right hand and moved it between her legs to finish her; just before I could get a few fingers into her snatch she slammed her legs shut on my hand: “Gonna have to try harder than that, kid!” she cackled. “I’m not that easy!”
With a grunt I tried to pull my hand free, but her thick thighs were too strong; I was trapped. She sat up and grabbed my left wrist with her right hand, and suddenly I was in a bad spot. She leaned forward and kissed me, her free right hand going behind my head to make sure I couldn’t go anywhere as she forced her tongue into my mouth. As we kissed she pressed her body against mine, digging her hard nipples into my chest. Then she pushed me over, our kiss breaking as I hit the mat on my back. Without releasing my hand, she straddled me, keeping my other hand pinned to the mat.
“Looks like it’s my turn now,” she purred. “You a top or a bottom, hun?” I didn’t respond; I felt like any answer I gave would help her decide how to attack me. Shoot, looking back, I guess I should’ve lied, but that didn’t occur to me just then. “Aw, you don’t wanna tell? That’s fine; I don’t need you to say a word…” Her free hand started teasing my right nipple with her fingers. “You ever had this done to you?” I kept my mouth shut; it looked like she didn’t expect a response anyway as she rolled my nipple between her thumb and forefinger. “You like being played with like a girl?” This felt weird, and I had to bite down a yell of uncomfortable surprise as she dipped her head down took my left nipple into her mouth.
“Get off!” I grunted.
“Aw, c’mon. I’m being nice. Or do you want me to get rough?” With that she applied a vicious nipple twist. I don’t know how ladies can take this move; it felt like she was going to rip my nipple right off and I screamed, managing to free my left hand, grabbing her wrist and pulling her arm away from my chest. I didn’t even have time to sigh in relief before she punched me hard in the stomach; caught unaware I gasped, leaning forward and resting my head on her shoulder. She released my other hand - she’d been squeezing it so hard with her legs that it had gone numb - then gave me a hard shove, leaving me laying flat on my back.
“You know, kid, I think we’re gonna have a lot of fun together,” Sally told me as she stood over me. “But I think I better soften you up first. Well, maybe that’s not the right word…” she eyed my hard cock, clearly visible through my shorts, for a second before picking me up, laying me over her shoulders in a torture rack. Her left hand pulled down on my neck, but her left hand came into my bottoms, firmly gripping my hard cock: “Ahhh, I knew you liked it. You’re my little sub, aren’t you? Why don’t you just lay up there?”
For a minute I did; when she felt me not fighting back she started jerking me off, and for a woman performing this while I was laid over her shoulders who couldn’t see what she was doing, it felt great. When I decided I had to get out of there before she made me cum, she attacked with her other hand, pulling down on my neck, both choking me and stretching my back painfully. I kept trying to get off her, but it wasn’t easy; I didn’t have anything to push off of, and I ended up mostly thrashing on her back, trying to roll off to the front or behind. Before I could do so, Sally must have decided it was time to change tactics, as with a shout she fell backwards, nailing me with a powerful Samoan drop. I was left flat on my back, in shock, pain spasming up and down my back. Sally took a quick victory lap - she seemed to think I was done, and I couldn’t blame her; I was momentarily helpless, beyond putting up any resistance. She came back to where I was laying on the mat: “Aw, poor baby. Did I play a little too rough? Don’t worry, it’s all gonna be over soon!”  I expected her to pick me up and readied myself to go for a uppercut between her legs, but instead she went to my side and gave me a splash, all of her weight impacting me as her stomach slammed into mine. She rolled off me as I heard Adam screaming at me to get up (as if it hadn’t occurred to me or something). Amazingly, I was still hard after the punishment Sally had just put me through; she yanked off my shorts, the crowd applauding - nice to have some fans out there, I guess - then she sat down on my legs, facing my head. Seeing what she was doing I tried to sit up and push her off, but she was too quick (or I was too slow; I was still pretty hurt) and I found myself laying back on the mat with a moan as she took my cock into her mouth. I looked down at her and our eyes met as she started bobbing her head up and down my shaft. Adam was screaming something I don’t remember; I finally understood how all the advice and pleading I’d screamed at my teammates hadn’t registered.
I still had some fight left in me and lifted my hands to push on Sally’s shoulders, but without missing a beat she grabbed my wrists, pinning them back down. By now I knew that Paola was the fellatrix expert on her team, but Sally was no slouch; I had to get out of this fast or she’d finish me quickly. I pushed up with my legs - useless; with good leverage or against one of the lighter women, I think this would have worked, but Sally was just too heavy where she was sitting. But I did manage to improve my situation - she slid down a bit, towards my knees, making sure there was no way I could lift her off me; I thought I could slide my legs from under her if she’d just ease up a little.
So I relaxed my body completely, trying to make Sally think I was about to cum - not too far from the truth as she was still applying an expert blowjob- and sure enough I felt her weight shift just a little, just enough for me to yank my legs straight up. Sally was so surprised that my dick was still in her mouth as I pulled my legs up, planted my feet on her shoulders and pushed her away. She went flying, doing two backwards somersaults before coming up to her knees. I got up to my knees as well, trying not to think about how close she’d gotten me - ten more seconds and I would have lost the whole match.
We weren’t too far away and approached on our knees; Sally clearly knew how worked up she’d gotten me: “Just making it harder on yourself,” she purred. “I’m gonna getcha sooner or later.”
“Can’t get much harder anyway,” I gasped.
“I see that.” She was practically salivating, her eyes locked on my cock. As we closed she threw a left at my head; I took a gamble that this was fakeout and her real target was my crotch, going low, rewarded as she pulled her punch and lunged at my dick. I had my hands in a perfect position to stop her, grabbing her wrists, then lowering my shoulder and pushing forward; I hit her just below her boobs, easily pushing her over onto her back, crawling on top of her. I went to hold her down, but she wasn’t trying to escape; instead she wrapped her arms around me, pulling me against her soft body. She latched her lips onto my neck and started sucking as she ground against me. When I tried to get up I found I was trapped; she was hanging off me with all her weight, and with the awkward angle I couldn’t get up. “You’re not going anywhere!” she yelled, and the next thing I knew she’d rolled over on top of me. “Stay down, boy,” she panted. I felt my cock rubbing against her pussy and panicked; I knew if she succeeded in mounting me, I was finished - heck, I might not even survive just entering her. She’d unwrapped her arms around me to go for the cowgirl, and I managed to shove her off, scrambling backwards away from her.
As we got to our feet I came to a decision: I was going to try and turn the tables on Sally. I’d gotten in a few good moves, but if I kept fighting her the way I’d been going, it was only a matter of time - and at this point probably not much time, honestly - before she’d succeed in wearing me down until she could finish me off at her leisure; despite me being 20 years younger and in much better shape, she was just too good and had too much experience. I had to swing the momentum my way and win the match with whatever I tried next, or I was out of time. Obviously the little bit of wrestling training I’d been shown was no match for her, so I’d try another approach - I was going to try the erotic tactics she’d been using on me. Now I don’t think these would match her experience either in the long term, but if I could get the jump on her… surely she wouldn’t be expecting this? I was hanging all my hopes on that slim thread.
As we closed Sally’s target seemed pretty obvious, and sure enough she lunged at my cock. I sidestepped and then darted forward, wrapping my arms around her midsection, lifting her off the mat and slamming her down on her back. She tried to grab me, but I slid down her body, going right for her pussy, gambling that she’d gotten turned on dominating me. She had - in fact she was dripping wet - and I got my face right against her crotch, pressing my tongue into her pussy. She closed her legs around my head, but it was too late to stop me from eating her out. She started squeezing, and the pressure was fierce; if she’d had a little more time she probably would have been able to knock me out with her thighs, but she was already pretty close, and before long I could feel her legs loosening as pleasure flooded her body. Then I felt her hands on the back of my head, pushing my face deeper into her crotch, and I knew I’d won; I could hear the crowd going apeshit as I finished her with my tongue, Adam screaming a wordless victory cry, Sally’s teammates yelling in frustration. She thrust her hips against my face as she reached her peak, then she went limp, her hands falling to rest at her sides.
I slowly got to my knees, raising my arms in victory; it took a minute for it to hit home that my desperate gamble had worked. I took a second to savor it, breathing heavily, grabbing my shorts where they’d fallen and using them to wipe some of Sally’s thick juices off my face. When I turned back to her I saw she was up her elbows, smiling awfully wide for a woman who’d just lost her match. “Hey, kid,” she called. “You beat me fair and square. Come get your reward.” I started heading over to her before Adam screamed “Get back here, idiot!”
With a sinking heart I realized he was right; the big match would be starting as soon as my singles match with Sally was over, and I should hold off and stay fresh. I turned away from Sally and stood up, but only made it a few steps before she tackled me from behind, taking me down to the mat. She rolled me over and before I could try to push her off she lowered her tits to my face. For good measure she pinned my hands to the mat; she kept me there just long enough to sap my strength (not that I had much left; as soon as I’d won, all of my adrenaline had evaporated). While this was going on Adam, to his credit, got between the ropes to come to my rescue, but Sally’s three surviving teammates came out to intercept him; they didn’t attack him, but they formed a wall of female flesh he couldn’t get past as Sally released the titsmother, sliding down my body, her left hand cupping my balls and her right hand wrapping around my cock. She took just the tip between her lips and started using her hand and mouth on me together, sliding both down my shaft until the outside of her pinkie touched my hips, then back up. This time there was no escape, and in just half dozen strokes I was shooting into her mouth. It felt like she was trying to suck the cum out of my cock; she swallowed it all greedily, gently pumping my balls, before releasing me and almost tenderly helping me to my feet. She hugged me, then surprised me with a kiss on the mouth, bowing to the crowd and rolling out of the ring to head to the back. Her surviving teammates graciously allowed me to stumble back to my corner; I got out of the ring, standing on the apron, as Adam patted me on the shoulder before going to face off with our opponents in our immediately starting tag match.